


I Hope You're Happy, Move on From Me

by KittyWhiteCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Artist Marcus Flint, Artist Oliver Wood, Break Up, Break Up Talk, Co-workers, Control, Flashbacks, Flower Language, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, One Shot, POV Oliver Wood, People Pleaser Marcus Flint, Self-Reflection, Toxic Oliver Wood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyWhiteCat/pseuds/KittyWhiteCat
Summary: He had been happy with him, at first. How can he not be? Yes, he never says 'I love you', but he shows it in soft kisses, in unsolicited midnight snacks, in movie nights, in dates, in hugs, in stocking the snacks in the flat, in listening to him with every problem, in helping him with every decision-making, and so much more.But he pleases him too much when he demands too much from him. And he only sees how toxic it is now.
Relationships: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Kudos: 10





	I Hope You're Happy, Move on From Me

**Author's Note:**

> (If you possess half a brain, which I know that you would have both possession of your brains, I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to J. K. Rowling. And also this would be different than the books or the movies, but it's a fanfic, I can do whatever I want with it.)

Oliver believed they were a match made in heaven.

He remembers that they met again as teammates in the Puddlemere United Quidditch team at 17, Oliver as the reserve keeper and he as the reserve chaser. As he is reserve chaser and chasers get hit by bludgers more often than keepers, it didn't take long for him to be promoted to one of the main chasers, at 20. Oliver caught up only 6 months afterwards, only before the war. Doesn't mean neither he nor his boyfriend (then best friend) didn't fight in the war- they did owe the school what they now know.

Oliver remembers precisely the story of when they'd become lovers. It was three years since their friendship and they were having tea and brioche in Oliver's flat. Oliver handed him some drawing paper and four kinds of pencils (HB, 2B, 6B, and 9B) to draw whilst he drew in his own page- he remembered drawing black-and-white crackling fire on wood- when he flips his paper in front of Oliver presenting his drawing- it was a bouquet of black-and-white carnations, lavender, and pansies.

"I know they're all black-and-white, but let's pretend the carnations are green-" he looked down and blushed. Oliver can only look up as he gaped like a fish. "I assumed you knew what they meant? So would you?"

Oliver squeaked a yes. And it was like that for a few years.

It was a few wonderful years. He's so gentle, understanding, he's so much like him. He would never say 'I love you' specifically, not that Oliver needs it. He shows it in every chance he gets, and not just at sex. He shows it in soft kisses, in unsolicited midnight snacks, in movie nights, in dates, in hugs, in stocking the snacks in the house, in listening to him with every problem, in helping him with every decision-making, and so much more.

Oliver does everything in his power to pay back the affection. He doesn't take long to decide where to eat or where to go to make it easy for his boyfriend, dressing up as hot as he can and getting the lube to make sex most pleasurable as possible, listening to every one of his problems too, in hugs, in soft kisses, in everything that he has ever done. They even barely ever fought. So there should be no problem, right?

Whatever that he does that Oliver doesn't like, he immediately drops. He rarely disagrees with Oliver, and when he does disagree with Oliver, he always ends up following Oliver's wishes. Oliver remembers specifically one example of this, when he wants to see his parents. 

It was autumn and they were in their flat when he came up to Oliver with a note from his mother telling him that the disease his father contracted has spread all over his body and the healers have given up, and opinionated that his dad will die in a week. Oliver never liked them, they were nasty blood supremacists (luckily he stopped believing in blood supremacy when he entered Hogwarts and was exposed to various ways of thinking). 

"Ollie, babe, this is my own dad," he reminded, folding his mother's note. "He's sick, he's dying. I want to see him before he dies. I'm his only son!"

"He's a blood supremacist!" Oliver exclaimed. He rubbed his face. "It's a good thing you learnt other points of views, but your parents don't! What if you go there and they influence you back to blood supremacy?!"

"Babe, that's never going to happen," he insists. "Besides, I have you to wake me up if that were to ever happen."

"Babe, my mum was killed by that kind of people." Oliver shook his head. His lover sighed. "You know this."

Yes, Oliver's mother was a muggleborn and she was one of the muggleborns killed in the muggleborn registration act under Umbridge. Though he never shows, his hatred towards blood supremacists since then had been personal. Before, it was ideological, but now it's personal. 

"You can come with me if you're that worried-" he smirked as he lifts his brow. "My parents won't like it if we display affection, but in private we can."

"I don't like blood supremacists and I'll never willingly see them," Oliver huffed. He sighed defeatedly. 

"This is my dad, Ollie-" he shook his head. "Sure, he's a blood supremacist and he's a bad person, but he's a good dad to me. I have to give him that. I will always say he's a shitty man but he's a great dad- and he's dying. I haven't seen him since we started dating and he won't live past next week, my mum will be all alone. Just give me a week or two with them, I promise I won't be a blood supremacist by then."

"I said no, no is no!" Oliver insisted, slamming his hand to a nearby creme wall. His lover flinched a little and closed his eyes. "You know what, fine! Fine, go to your parents! You have your own thoughts, I'm very sure you can take care of yourself facing your parents without losing yourself there!"

Oliver left the living room to their shared room, covering himself in blankets and pillows. It didn't take long before he feels an arm slithering his waist and pressing close to him.

"Babe, what are you doing? I thought you're seeing your parents."

"I'm not seeing them."

A sliver of guilt slithered in Oliver's heart, but Oliver ignored it, insisting that what he's doing was right. Blood supremacists have done worse anyway, they have caused millions of deaths of muggleborns, his mother one of them. They had orphaned him. 

Three days later, his lover got a note saying that his father had passed away. Oliver changed his mind and let his lover go and visit the funeral, but his lover wouldn't go.

"You wouldn't like it-" his lover shook his head whilst holding in his tears.

So Oliver made sure there were enough snacks for his lover. Oliver stayed inside for the whole time until his boyfriend can find the energy to leave their shared room, both taking leave from work. The whole time Oliver made sure his needs are fulfilled, letting him talk all about his dad to him, making sure he's enough-fed in times when he barely had the energy to feed himself, making sure he's hygienic in times when he barely had the energy to keep himself clean, things like that. Oliver had never regretted what he said so badly.

He had pleased him so much, yet costing his own happiness in the way. Oliver had thought that this kind of lover is the dream lover, but Oliver had come to realise how toxic this relationship is- and how toxic of a man Oliver is. And his lover doesn't see- but Oliver does. 

Tears swell up the corner of his glass eye and Oliver blinked to let the tears off the corner of his eyes, but more kept coming. He remembers exactly the story of when he got the glass eye, it was a Quidditch-related accident and his lover moved into his flat to help him adjust to actually having one eye. He never moved out ever since. Because of his injury Puddlemere no longer allowed him to remain a chaser- but since he's a great strategist, he's hired as a coach instead.

How should Oliver break up with him? Well, he asked Oliver to be his boyfriend by drawing a bouquet of carnations, lavender, and pansies, he can break up with him the same way. His boyfriend is out anyway, so he quickly grabbed his four pencils and a smooth drawing paper. He placed back his glass eye and began scratching his 2B on his paper. 

"Hey, babe," Oliver can hear the door opened and several keys dropped to the table. Oliver stared at his paper, it was almost done anyway. "What are you drawing, love?"

Pet names Oliver will miss most. Oliver turned to face his lover and handed him his drawing, his lover looking down to see a black-and-white bouquet of hyacinths, agrimonies, and cattail.

"Oliver-" he took a deep breath in. "Why? Am I not good enough for you? Is it something I did?"

"No, it's something I did to you, Marc-" Oliver shook his head. "You had been too patient and too nice. You're so good to me and I'm not good for you."

"No- that's bullshit, Oliver! You know that!" Marcus held Oliver's hand shakingly. "There's no such thing as 'you're not good for me'. I know you're good for me."

"I'm toxic, you deserve a non-toxic lover," Oliver continued. When Marcus was about to interrupt, Oliver shook his head. "Remember your dad's death? How because of me, you're not there for his dying breath? And you haven't seen your mum ever since? You haven't even seen your parents since we became a couple."

"I understand your fear, your mum died in the hands of blood supremacists," Marcus lightly shook his head. "It's ok."

"It's not ok, Marcus! That's your dad!" Oliver insisted. "You were right- he's a shitty man but a great father. I don't have to see him but that doesn't mean you shouldn't. I had no right to keep you away from him yet I did anyway."

"It's past, Oliver," Marcus sighed and rubbed his face. "Either way, he's gone. He's not coming back to life."

"But you can rekindle it with your mum, right?" Oliver asked. When Marcus only looked away, Oliver furrowed his brows. "Marcus? Where's your mum?"

"My cousin told me that she cast the Killing Curse on herself after the funeral-" Marcus licked his lips, his voice significantly heavier. Oliver gasped. "I didn't tell you this, but that's why I was so disheartened by the news of my dad's death. Because I knew my mum would follow."

"Marcus-"

"It's past, ok?" Marcus cuts. "It's done, I have no parents anymore. But at least I still have you and I want to still have you, so let me have you. Please."

"I control you too much," Oliver bit his bottom lip. "There's not a single thing in you that I don't control. I speak that I don't like you wearing yellow, I don't see you wear yellow ever since. I don't like you drinking at all, I don't see you drinking at all. I don't like you listening to rock music, I don't see you listening to rock music at all. I don't like your undercut, I don't see you having an undercut. I control you too much."

"That's because I love you and I want you to like me, Oliver-" Marcus slapped his hands together. "Understand this."

"You're a people pleaser, Marcus, and that's unhealthy for you," Oliver shook his head. "You need a voice, you need to care for your own good too. I'm doing this for your own good. Marcus, you have to have your own liking. You have to stop being a people pleaser."

"But I like being a people pleaser-" Marcus shrugged. "You like me and I like you liking me."

"But you need to like yourself too, Marcus, and I just noticed that you're not you." Oliver held Marcus' fingers. "I love you, Marcus. That's why I'm doing this. I'm toxic for you and I know it'll be hell for you to stop being a people pleaser, but you need to care for yourself too."

"I care about myself-"

"Not above me," Oliver cuts. Marcus sighed, he knew this. "Give me a week to move out of our flat. I'm sorry."

"I want us to at least remain friends, Oliver," Marcus said. "You are a great person to hang around with."

"Both of us need help, Marcus-" Oliver shook his head. "Maybe, someday, when I've gotten help. I've hurt you and I'll hurt you if I still keep in contact with you with no help. I need help."

"I'll move out," Marcus volunteered. "This is your flat and most of these had been your stuff, I couldn't bear all the memories here."

And Marcus ran in their shared bedroom. Oliver took a deep breath in and sighed, no he shouldn't cry. Not now. Marcus walked out with a duffel bag and stopped in front of Oliver. 

"I promise I'll stop being a people pleaser, Oliver," Marcus begged, wiping the snort with a handkerchief. "Are you sure there's no other way?"

"Goodbye, Marcus."

"Can I have your drawing?" Marcus points to the table, to the paper that lies above. Oliver quickly grabbed it with his shaky hand and handed it to Marcus.

"I hope we can remain friends," Oliver said. Marcus only looked down the drawing and slowly look up at Oliver again.

"You know where to contact me." And Marcus left the flat, leaving the door open and the duplicate key on the nearest table.

Oliver didn't even bother to wear his glass eye again as he closed and locked the door, taking deep breaths in. This is his choice, he shouldn't be crying at all, right? This had been his sin, his fault. He was the wrong one here, he doesn't deserve to cry. Marcus was innocent, he was the guilty one. Never once did Marcus do anything to hurt him, Marcus never even did anything he doesn't like. This had all been Oliver's fault.

Oliver stammered to now his bedroom (Merlin, how he hated to say that) and opened the door before dropping down to his knees, sobbing and screaming Marcus' name whilst clutching his chest.

Over the king-sized bed hanged a framed drawing of a bouquet of carnations, lavender, and pansies.


End file.
